Alive
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: Sometimes all we need is a hero. Sometimes all we need is someone there. Sometimes all we need is ... a picnic? Oneshot. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV. Slash.


**Author's Note: **Oneshot. Romance/Comfort of sorts. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV.  
**Acknowledgements: **Thanks goes out to Amanda for proofreading, as usual.  
**Disclaimer: **I own no characters mentioned. I also take no credit for the beautiful song lyrics used.  
_If Everyone Cared_ by **Nickelback**.  
**Summary: **Sometimes all we need is a hero. Sometimes all we need is someone there. Sometimes all we need is . . . a picnic?

**Alive**

"_I __think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.__"  
__-Christopher Reeve_

It was an unnaturally perfect day out. A gorgeous blue sky and fresh looking clouds drifting lazily across the openness that was the sky. The sun beat down on the earth with a heat that was unnaturally hot. Scorching, more like. Too hot for Vegas. It was weird, but weird could have been Greg's middle name, and he proposed that he and Nick go out into the desert on a sort of excursion. A picnic of sorts.

"A picnic . . . in this heat?"

"Sure! Why not?"

"For one, do you honestly want to spend our day off out in a heat wave that could kill someone, and two . . . a picnic?"

"What's wrong with a picnic?"

Greg put on the pout face. Nick couldn't resist the pout face, and two hours later they were packed into Greg's car and off they went. The younger man didn't have a destination in mind, so Nick just drove. No idea where they were headed, they just drove.

"How far do you want to go out?" Nick asked, his window rolled down the whole way, the wind from the highway whipping his face. He glanced at his companion and smiled to himself as he glimpsed Greg with his head poked out the window. Safe? Not really, but it was Greg. Greg did strange things sometimes. Weird could have been his middle name . . . but sensible couldn't.

"I dunno . . . till we're out of here."

"We left the city about half an hour ago, G."

"I know . . . but I just want to get out of here, you know what I mean?"

Nick mumbled that he did, spanning the empty highway ahead of him. He could let his mind wander a bit now and dwell on what Greg was talking about, because he certainly knew.

After you've been a criminalist in Las Vegas for a while it seems as if that's all you ever do there. About a year after starting out at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, once a night he dreamt of a murder that only he would be able to solve. Sometimes he did figure it out and sometimes he didn't. Only once Nick got to work the next night did he realize that the cases he had solved in his slumber were cases that had been solved in reality. And the ones that were left unsolved in his dreams were the ones that got away in real life, too. No matter how many times you'd tell yourself that you were going to leave your work at the front door, it always snuck in through the back door . . . or in this case Nick's bedroom window.

Greg had been having a bit of difficulty dealing with Sara leaving. They had been best friends and she hadn't even said goodbye. Nick knew he blamed Grissom slightly, resenting their supervisor. The Texan also knew that Greg still had a bit of a crush on the secretive Sara Sidle. Nick didn't really mind—he knew it wouldn't amount to anything. Greg was his, not like anyone else knew that, though.

"Here looks good," Greg said, waving his hand to the right. Nick nodded and slowed, turning to go down a lung-cloggingly dusty road. Lovely.

Both men rolled up their windows and the journey continued on in silence.

"You want to go up the hill or have our picnic down here?" Nick asked a few minutes later, slowing the car to a roll as he craned his neck to see up to the top of the hill. At the crest was one solitary tree. It looked kind of shriveled from down here, and he wondered how it would look up close.

As if reading his thoughts, Greg replied: "Up the hill, Nicky."

The older man obliged and up they went, the tree growing closer and closer until Nick parked the car about a foot from it. "Wow," he muttered, his eyes widening as he took in the scarred and apparently dead tree.

It looked as if it had been struck by lightning numerous times. It was split almost in half, the bark midnight black and peeling. A faint smell of fire permeated from the inside of it, the smell spreading throughout the desert. It was as if the tree was just waiting to burn down to the ground.

"What an ugly tree," Nick muttered, popping the trunk and getting out. He walked around to the trunk, intent on grabbing the blanket.

Greg met him on the other side of the trunk, shaking his head. "I disagree. The tree has a certain beauty to it."

"Oh?" Nick asked, pulling up the lid of the trunk, exposing the picnic basket and the blanket. Greg had actually gone out to a pawnshop a few days ago to find the perfect picnic basket. The Texan only raised his eyebrows and chuckled when he had heard about it, wondering why Greg had to make things perfect.

"Yeah," the younger man said, grasping the basket by the handle, "it's scarred, broken, and burned, and just waiting to be returned to the earth, but it still has a quality of life around it."

"How do you figure that?" Nick inquired, quite flabbergasted at the idea that the thing was still alive.

"There was a bud on one of the branches. Didn't you see it? It's still alive. It's fighting. It won't give up," Greg said softly, turning his back on the tree and walking out onto the flat hilltop. "Does this look like a good spot?"

Nick nodded mutely, moved by the emotion in Greg's voice, but he chose not to comment on it. Not right now. He spread out the blankets at the spot and they both sat, gazing out at their surroundings.

The landscape just fell away from them, the sky seeming to meet the horizon just a few thousand feet in every direction. They could see other sand colored mountains raising and lowering in the distance, sparse crops of green shrubs trying to grow there, trying to survive. Somehow they did. Somehow they lived on.

"It's perfect," Nick breathed, awed at the sight. He leaned back, supported by his hands, letting out a sigh of contentment. Greg murmured his approval as well, turning to open the picnic basket.

"I packed us some peanut butter sandwiches, Nicky. I hope you enjoy them," Greg told his partner, digging around in the wicker basket for the sandwiches.

Nick cringed, hoping he was kidding. "You _are_ joking, right Greg?"

Greg flashed him his innocent look, but a smile was tugging at his lips. "What do you think?"

"I think that if you packed peanut butter I might just have to . . ." Nick didn't continue the half-thought out threat.

"You might just have to . . . what?" Greg asked devilishly, a mischievous twinkle in his mysterious, mesmerizing eyes.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Nick confessed, smiling in spite of himself.

"I could help you out there," Greg told him, winking.

Nick got his meaning in an instant. "Oh please. On a hilltop?"

"Hey, I said I could help you out. I never said it was classy."

Nick's laughter was contagious and soon they were both clutching their sides, howling as tears streamed down their faces. They didn't even know what they were laughing at, really. Maybe it was just the fact that they were _there_ . . . the fact that they were _alive_, still breathing, still thinking. Alive. Living to see the sun rise in the east and set in the west.

Sighing in contentment, Greg pulled two ham and cheese sandwiches out of the picnic basket, handing one to Nick. The older man took the sandwich, opening the Ziploc bag. They both ate quietly, a companionable hush held over them.

Nick couldn't take his eyes of the scenery, but every few moments he would turn slightly to take in the sight of the withered and scarred tree behind them. Greg didn't turn back once, as if he was keeping the tree out of his thoughts.

After sandwiches came some fruit, which turned out to be strawberries, Greg's favorite. By this time both men were chatting again, talking about nothing in particular and just enjoying each other's company as they watched the sun sink slowly beyond the horizon, beyond their world. The sun left a trail of crimson, gold and magenta as it lowered itself down for the night. As it disappeared, the fiery, heart-stopping colors faded to indigo, violet and blue, the night sky trying to swallow them up. Within seconds all hues were gone from the sky, leaving only little pinpricks of white light in the distance and a waxing moon hanging among the stars.

"You know," Greg said, leaning up against Nick, "that sunset happened really fast. As in, you blink and you miss it. That's kind of like life, too."

Nick put his arm around Greg, pulling him closer. "Yeah, it kind of is."

"Sometimes you've just got to take a chance, or you don't get anywhere," Greg said, wrapping his arms around Nick's torso. "You know . . . I never did say thank you for coming to see me at the hospital all those years ago."

"You mean after you got beaten up?"

"No . . . I mean when I was in the lab explosion."

Nick's mind started to go into overdrive, the images flashing through his head. He remembered going to see Greg, seeing one of his best friends lying there, seeming to be half alive but fighting. Fighting for his life. They said Greg was unconscious, and Nick was glad. He hadn't wanted the younger man to see him cry. That day was the day the Texan had told Greg that he was in love with him, but he had been too scared to tell him before. Having the man you love almost die did put things into perspective.

Nick didn't go back to the hospital after that day. He waited to see Greg at work, maybe to talk to him then. After the lab rat had gotten better he came right back to work, a little shaken but no lasting damage, well at least not visibly. There also was no mention of ever seeing Nick at the hospital, and the older man didn't bring it up either.

"You came to see me the first day I was admitted. Maybe a few hours after I had gotten there," Greg continued, turning his face to stare into Nick's eyes. "That was the day you . . . you said you loved me."

Nick swallowed deeply, wondering what exactly he was supposed to say to that. A look flashed in Greg's eyes and he kept talking, his words starting to run together: "I just wanted to say thank you for doing that for me. It gave me a reason to keep going. It gave me something to look forward to when I woke up. Without you saying that, I don't know if I would have even wanted to wake up. You made me realize that there's more to life than pain. There's love, too. I wanted so badly to tell you I loved you too that night, but I just couldn't. My body wouldn't respond and I could feel myself slipping away, off into more nightmares, but with you there . . . I just slept, no dreams. You saved me that night, Nick." Greg stopped, his shoulders shaking slightly and his breathing ragged. Nick felt tears in his own eyes as he tried to draw Greg even tighter, pouring as much love as he could into their embrace, and again he felt as if he should speak, say something, but he didn't have any words on his mind. What could he say to that?

Apparently Greg didn't require Nick to say anything to his long thought-out speech. His body went limp in his best friend's embrace and they both laid back on the blanket, gazing at the velvety sky sprinkled with lights that looked like fire flies dancing just out of their reach.

"I wonder," Greg murmured after he had gotten himself back under control, "how many people would have been saved if they had someone like _you_ Nicky. If they had someone like you beside their hospital bed, holding their hand and telling them it was going to be okay."

"I dunno G. I don't know if I'd be able to save anyone . . . I mean I'd do what I could, but—"

"You saved me," Greg reminded him gently.

"It's hard to think you're saving people when all you deal with is death," Nick muttered, tenderly twisting a lock of Greg's hair around his finger. Greg snuggled closer, his head on Nick's chest.

"You _are_ saving people, Nicky. You're saving the memory of those people, and sometimes that's all you can do. But I'm glad you did more than just that for me, Nick."

The Texan smiled faintly, a tear trickling out of the corner of his eye and running down the side of his face by his ear. "Me too, Greg. Me too . . ."

_And as we lie beneath the stars  
We realize how small we are  
If they could love like you and me  
Imagine what the world could be_


End file.
